


P.Weasley Isn't Allowed Denial

by RebellionOfTheFly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gay Percy Weasley, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 21:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18558121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebellionOfTheFly/pseuds/RebellionOfTheFly
Summary: A meeting at Flourish And Blotts sparks animosity, because what other feelings could Percy possibly have for Blaise Zabini?





	P.Weasley Isn't Allowed Denial

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sleep-deprived and incapable of editing, but I Bloody Tried.

Percy had never been a fan of Slytherins when he was in school. They were the worst students for respecting authority, especially from other houses. If memory served him correctly, Blaise Zabini was one of the contributors to this belief. He seemed to believe that a smirk and a half-arsed comment could get him out of trouble. Of course, it occasionally did, but not with Percy. He refused to bend the rules and, moreover, refused to respect anyone like Zabini.

This refusal was why, years later, he found himself scowling at Blaise in Flourish And Blotts. The man was innocently flicking through a book, narrowing his eyes and biting his lip, but Percy found himself staring. It was the suspicion and bitterness, _of course_ , since there was really no other reason for him to possibly be intently watching Blaise. Or at least, there wasn't in Percy's opinion.

After time drew on of Percy not-so-subtly watching him over the tops of a variety of randomly-grabbed books, Blaise made eye contact. Even his unimpressed, exasperated gaze was intense enough to make chills shoot down the Weasley's spine. It was a wordless demand for him to approach, and he obliged.

"What is it, Weasley?" Blaise demanded, once Percy was within earshot. His eyes flicked down to where he wrote on a torn page, just out of Percy's view.

"I don't know what you're-"

"You don't know? How disappointing. You're meant to be the intelligent Weasley, _as far as Weasleys go_. I almost expected more."

Percy's mouth bobbed slightly, failing to find the words to argue. He'd been right about Blaise causing issues, at least. Eventually, pulling himself together, he straightened his posture and looked down his nose at the ex-Slytherin. "Well, _you_ don't surprise me," he muttered. "You were bound to have a superiority complex, Zabini, being the only man in your house who didn't... Pass on."

A smirk slowly grew across Blaise's face, laced with more venom than humour. He took a step towards Percy, which practically pushed him against a bookshelf with nowhere to turn that didn't leave him pressed uncomfortably against him. 

"You're looking a little red, Weasley," Blaise chuckled, interrupting the steady stream of unintelligible spluttering. "It suits you." He cocked his head, slightly, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Or it suits you more than clothes do, at least."

Percy practically squeaked in response, and grew more flustered. All words died in his throat - submitting to the overwhelming thought of how he wouldn't mind letting him test the theory. It was cut short by a kiss hastily pressed to his lips and, before he'd even registered it, Blaise had taken a step backwards and allowed a smirk to overtake his features. There was a brief moment in which Percy thought that it must had all been an elaborate joke, set up by Ginny or George to force him into facing his feelings.

However, Blaise had produced the note he'd written in the book and slipped it into Percy's breast pocket, knuckles brushing against his chest in a way that _definitely_ seemed intentional. Then, with a wink that only he would be capable of making suave rather than comical, he strode out of Flourish And Blotts. 

Percy remained, his back pressed against a bookcase and his expression somewhere between joy and confusion. After several moments of being entirely still, he took the paper from his pocket and unfolded it. " _The White Wyvern, Knockturn Alley. 5:30, Saturday_." Percy grinned.


End file.
